


the art of showing up

by firefall



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Lack Of Supervision, Class Differences, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied One-Sided Kie/Sarah, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kiara's Kook Year, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27345997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefall/pseuds/firefall
Summary: JJ and Pope sit with John B in the police station as he files the missing persons report, one on either side of him, close enough that their shoulders bump together.  In times past, Kie would’ve been there too, standing behind them with her arms draped around John B’s neck and her chin resting on top of his head, but the Pogues are down to three now. JJ has no idea how they’re supposed to put John B back together without her.  Pope, for all that he tries, has never had much of a way with words, and JJ…well, JJ’s always been better at breaking things than fixing them.JJ fixes things despite himself.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ & Pope & John B. Routledge
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	the art of showing up

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be purely platonic, though I guess I can't stop you from reading it romantically if you want. Just know that it'll make the author sad lmao.
> 
> Warnings for: swearing, mentions of child abuse, drug use, underage drinking, and discussions of rich people.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Outer Banks and all characters and concepts belong to Netflix and Jonas Pate. The Pogues, however, belong to each other.

Big John goes missing on a Tuesday and Kie is nowhere to be found.

JJ and Pope sit with John B in the police station as he files the missing persons report, one on either side of him, close enough that their shoulders bump together. In times past, Kie would’ve been there too, standing behind them with her arms draped around John B’s neck and her chin resting on top of his head, but the Pogues are down to three now. JJ has no idea how they’re supposed to put John B back together without her. Pope, for all that he tries, has never had much of a way with words, and JJ…well, JJ’s always been better at breaking things than fixing them.

Mostly they just try to distract him. They surf more than they go to school and they spend a lot of their time high off their asses. Pope still won’t touch the stuff, but he’ll get drunk with them around the bonfire and go on bleary-eyed tirades about the embalming process while lying in the hammock with his head hanging over the side. Sometimes JJ wonders if Pope’s even real.

On the occasions that they’re not too high to function, they take the _HMS Pogue_ out on the water and search for Big John. In the privacy of his head, JJ can’t help but think it’s a fool’s errand – Big John has lived on The Cut his whole life and, like most people brought up in the OBX, learned how to fish, drive a boat, and survive the ocean’s perils before he even reached his double digits. If he’s been missing for weeks without so much as a mayday signal, he’s almost definitely dead. 

Not that JJ would ever say it. He may suck at the sappy stuff, but he’s a good fucking friend. So is Pope, whose eyes read _hopeless_ but whose mouth still rambles with optimistic platitudes and alternate locations for them to try next time.

 _Kie would believe_ , JJ’s brain conjures up on occasion, unbidden and unasked for. Not that it matters because Kie fucked off to the Kook Academy almost a year ago and hasn’t been back since.

About six weeks after Big John’s disappearance, John B runs out of money. They’ve been scrimping like the dyed-in-the-wool Pogues they are, but no amount of stealing food or living by candlelight or limiting toilet flushes can make a fifteen-year-old’s meager savings last forever. He’s fucked and it’s not like the Heywards have the wherewithal to help out. 

“I bet my dad has some drug money lying around,” JJ volunteers one morning as he watches John B stand sadly in front of the empty refrigerator. Pope has been trying his best to sneak food over, but they’d finished the last of the cereal and bread the day before. JJ’s hungry as hell but it’s not like that’s exactly a new thing. It’s new for John B, though, and JJ wants to make it go away. “How about I go over there and redistribute the wealth? I don’t think I’ll be able to steal enough for the electricity and water bills, but I could at least get us some groceries.”

Pope jumps in before John B can answer. “You are _not_ going back there,” he says, deadly serious. His eyes are huge. “Especially not to steal from him! Are you crazy?”

“Crazy, no…hungry, yes.” JJ shrugs. “I know how to deal with that asshole, okay? I’ve been doing it for a long fucking time. I won’t get caught.”

John B is shaking his head, slowly at first and then so furiously his curls go flying. “No,” he says emphatically. “No way in _hell_ , JJ! There are other ways.”

JJ snorts a humorless laugh. “There’s really not,” he points out. “Unless you wanna go door-to-door up in Figure Eight rattling a tin cup.” Here he adopts a high-pitched, creaky voice. “ _Please, sir, spare a penny for a broke-ass Pogue?_ They’d sooner bust your face in, man.”

Despite it all, John B can’t help but smile. “You’re an idiot,” he says with fond exasperation. “But I mean it, dude…you’re not doing that.”

“See, the cool thing about you and Pope not actually being my parents is that I don’t have to listen to you,” JJ shoots back, deciding that he’s done with this conversation. “Gimme a couple days. I’ll be back.”

Then he turns on his heel and stalks out onto the porch. The last thing he hears before riding off on his bike is Pope saying thoughtfully, “You’re definitely the mom” followed quickly by a yelp of pain as John B inevitably smacks him one.

Dumbasses.

There _is_ drug money at the house. There’s actually _lots_ of money at the house and JJ categorically doesn’t want to know why. He’s not really a ‘why’ kind of guy – he’s much more into results than explanations. And being able to slip a single twenty out of every bundle of cash without anyone being the wiser? That’s a good fucking result.

The only problem is that his dad won’t _leave_. He hangs around building engines and smoking pack after pack of cigarettes, watching JJ with suspicious eyes and a scowl on his lips. They don’t really talk but JJ knows his father is onto him. He hasn’t spent this much time at home since he was eleven and Dad knows that has to mean something. Paranoia runs in the family, unfortunately.

So that’s how he spends the next three days: watched like a hawk and with pockets that feel emptier by the minute.

The night of the third day JJ jackknifes awake to the sound of his window scraping open. His heart in his throat, he leaps out of bed and grabs the intruder by their shirt collar, rearing desperately back to punch them in the face. “JJ!” the person whisper-screams and JJ just barely manages to divert his punch into the wall instead when he sees that it’s John B. “It’s just me!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” JJ hisses through clenched teeth. His knuckles are stinging from colliding with the drywall and he shakes his hand out, wincing. “I could’ve hurt you!”

John B barely even seems to register it. “Pope had to go home tonight,” he says, voice small. “The Chateau’s too quiet.”

“Oh god. Oh _fuck_ ,” JJ says when he realizes that John B is about to cry. Holy shit, he’s about to _cry_. “Stop it, man! Stop it or my dad’s gonna hear us!”

“Do you have the money yet? Can you come back?” John B asks, lips trembling. “It’s been _days_ , JJ.”

“Do you think I’d still be hanging out here if I had the money?” JJ demands, voice too loud in the silent house. He knows he’s being too harsh, especially considering his best friend is newly orphaned and lonely and seconds away from bawling his eyes out, but JJ’s fucking _terrified_ , is the thing. If his dad wakes up he’s going to beat the living shit out of both of them. Welcome to the Maybank household, John B. “I don’t have it and now I never will, you fucking idiot! Forget the money – we gotta get outta here!”

Luckily, Dad doesn’t wake up until JJ is driving away in the VW bus, peeling out at 70-plus. He clomps out onto the porch with his hunting rifle in hand, waving it around as he screams profanity at the top of his lungs. JJ doesn’t look back. 

As JJ lies awake on the pull-out couch back at the Chateau, one arm thrown over John B’s back in a lame attempt at comfort, his thoughts keep going back to Kie. They need her. John B is fucked up and JJ is useless and Pope has responsibilities to his family and, god, they could’ve died tonight. They could’ve fucking _died_ and they need Kie so badly it makes JJ’s stomach hurt.

Fuck the Kooks…JJ’s going to get her back.

_-_-_-_

“John B’s dad is dead.”

Kie looks up sharply from the cash register at The Wreck, eyes going wide when she sees him. JJ knows he looks out of place in the nice diner, some smuggler’s son with scabs on his face and sea salt in his hair, but it never used to be like that. The Wreck used to be something of a third home for the Pogues…but that was before. 

“JJ?” She gapes at him like she’s forgotten how to make words in the past five seconds. “What the—what are you doing here?”

But JJ’s not even close to fucking around, so he just repeats darkly, “He’s fucking dead, Kie.”

Kie signals to her mom that she’s taking a break, locks up the register, and then leads him out the back door. They cut through the outdoor seating to lean against the railing at the edge of the deck, standing almost close enough to touch but feeling miles away.

“He’s just missing,” Kie finally says, studiously not looking at him.

JJ’s first thought is a vindictive one: that after almost a year of radio silence she’s got a lot of balls trying to correct him. But the part of him that is angry and vengeful and, yes, so fucking hurt by her desertion is easily drowned out by the part of him that has missed her so damn much. He _knew_ she’d believe. He knew it.

“Right, yeah. Missing,” he amends. Then, “So you’ve been following the case?”

“Of course I have.” Kie’s voice is shaking. When JJ glances down he sees that her hands are, too.

“Okay, so what gives, then? Why haven’t you come back?”

“Because there’s no fucking point!” she bursts out, finally reeling around to look at him. JJ can’t help it – he flinches back and it makes the tears that’ve gathered in her eyes skate down her cheeks. “What’s it gonna help? Things are different now… _I’m_ different now! It’s not—it’s not like it was before.”

“You’re right. And it fucking _sucks_. But it doesn’t have to,” JJ points out. God, what has the world come to when _he’s_ the idealistic one? This is supposed to be Kie’s role.

Kie scrubs the tears off her face with annoyance and gives a sardonic little laugh. “If you’re looking for someone to make things better, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. The only thing _I_ do is fuck everything up.”

And that…that’s not Kie. Kie is many things – brilliant, sarcastic, a master boat mechanic, and a socialist, just to name a few – but she’s _never_ been down on herself. This has Kooklandia written all over it and suddenly JJ is burning with rage so hot he wants to destroy something. It’s bad enough that those fucking rich kids stole his best friend, they don’t get to break her, too.

“What did they do to you?” he demands, hands curled into fists. “And don’t say _nothing_ because I know you better than that. You don’t go down without a fight.”

If Kie is at all affected by the anger coming off him in waves, she doesn’t show it. She chews on her lip for a few moments before sighing, “Let’s just say I found out how little I mean in the grand scheme of things. Especially to Sarah Cameron.”

“The Kook Princess?” The anger is still there – the anger is _always_ there – but at Kie’s frankly baffling statement it takes a backseat to his bewilderment. “What does her opinion matter?”

“It matters a lot! Because I—” Kie snaps her mouth shut at the last second, shaking her head vehemently. “Because of the way I…feel about her.”

“Which is _how_ , exactly?”

Kie’s silence is answer enough.

“Well, shit,” JJ says succinctly because _shit_. It’s a revelation he wasn’t prepared for but one he knows exactly what to do with. He flops down onto the deck and motions for her to join him, throwing an arm around her shoulders when she obeys. Then it’s just the two of them, huddling together in their own little world like nothing had ever torn them apart. “That’s rough, dude.”

Kie’s voice is thick when she says, “I think she got into my head, you know? She made me feel like I’m not someone worth sticking around for and—and maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m kidding myself.” Then her voice goes so quiet JJ has to strain to hear her. “Why would anyone ever stay?”

“That’s a stupid question to ask a guy that hauled his ass down here in the burning heat to literally _beg_ you to come back,” JJ says dryly, giving her a playful push that knocks her back against the railing. 

“Asshole.”

“Listen. Kie. Do you think we’re like them?” JJ says, scrambling around until he’s crouched in front of her, hands clutching desperately at her shoulders. “Because we’re not. Forget Sarah Cameron and forget the Kooks, okay? You’ve been one of ours since the day you covered for me when I got caught stealing that rich kid’s lunch back in fifth grade. You remember that? That’s you, Kie…that’s _still_ you. And we’re still us.”

Kie doesn’t look convinced. “But what about—? Big John’s been missing for almost two months and I haven’t even texted! How do we come back from that?”

“You show the fuck up,” JJ says simply, shrugging. It probably sounds too easy, but that’s friendship Pogue-style, baby. Putting food on the table is hard, paying the bills is hard, but dealing with each other’s bullshit? That’s no problem at all.

“Okay.” Kie nods once, jaw set with determination, and then springs to her feet, snickering when it makes JJ fall back onto his ass on the deck. He flips both middle fingers at her. “But I’ll bring a peace offering.”

“Wait, you’re going right _now_? Don’t Mike and Miss Anna still need you?”

Kie rolls her eyes. “Fuck my parents. John B and Pope are more important.” Then she grins a little. “And you too, I guess.”

JJ cackles, delighted. “There she is!” he crows. “There’s Kie! Let’s get outta here!”

Kie fills a reusable shopping bag with food from The Wreck’s fridge as well as a six-pack that the Carreras hopefully won’t miss. Then they’re off, zipping through Figure Eight and down to The Cut on JJ’s bike. 

At the Chateau Kie hesitates, frozen in place on the porch steps. Her body is rigid and wound tight.

“We’re not like them,” JJ reminds her, keeping his voice down and as gentle as a guy like him can manage. He takes her hand. “Come on.”

When they step inside, John B is still curled up on the pull-out couch where JJ left him. Pope is back, too, stretched out with some novel from English class draped over his face like the story will magically sink into his brain through osmosis. They look up at the sound of the screen door slamming shut and when they see Kie they’re on their feet in an instant.

JJ can barely get the “Look what the tide brought in!” out of his mouth before John B and Pope are racing across the room.

“I brought food,” Kie is saying nervously, holding the bag up. “And beer. I know it’s been a while, but—”

“God, shut _up_ ,” John B chokes out, wrenching the bag from her hands and tossing it onto the kitchen table to get it out of the way. Then he’s scooping her up off the floor and whirling her around, laughing happily. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

Kie hangs onto his neck. “I’m back,” she promises, tears on her face. “For good.”

“You better be,” Pope says and then John B, like an idiot, veritably _chucks_ Kie at him. Luckily, Pope catches her by the waist and holds her steady in a tight hug. Kie clings to him.

No apologies are said, but they don’t need to be. They all know. That’s what it means to be family.

They spend the rest of the day out on the water, but this time they aren’t looking for Big John. That’ll happen again soon JJ is sure, but for now they just fish and drink and shoot the shit. It feels like old times in the best way possible, before disappearing dads and friend-stealing Kooks. It feels a little less broken and a little more complete.

“Don’t leave again,” JJ whispers to Kie as they’re tying the _HMS Pogue_ back up to the dock once the sun is starting to go down. Then, because he’s embarrassed, he adds quickly, “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

A year away hasn’t impeded Kie’s ability to see straight through JJ’s bullshit. But dealing with each other’s bullshit is what they do best, so she just smiles and says, “I won’t. I promise.”

See? No problem at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The tumblr post for this work is [here](http://arolou.tumblr.com/post/633697840143777792/the-art-of-showing-up-relationship-jj-kiara) so if you liked this, consider giving it a reblog :)


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